[$20] Patrons' Prompt The Bounty of Peace Prequel: Bounty's Reward 1 (Beta Copy) (Patreon)

Truth be told, Samus was used to not fitting into most women’s clothing. She was over six feet tall, which meant she was already shopping at the intergalactic Big and Tall chain of clothing stories. But it used to only be a problem of height…

Samus Aran looked at herself, her pooching tummy rolling over the top of her black yoga pants, and grimaced. She couldn’t see the waistband of the clothing, just the pale muffin top that hopped and jiggled like a belly full of jelly. Even with custom clothing, Samus didn’t own anything past the size of a medium, and now these elastic pants were obviously being pushed far beyond their limit.

Fat and tall. That doesn’t sound as nice, but with her round thighs that stretched her tight pants, full breasts straining her blue top, and her wobbling gut almost exposed to the world, Samus could not deny her body. It was as if she’d finally looked at the elephant in the room, only to discover that the pudgy pachyderm was her own reflection.

Samus tried shifting the weight, her blue eyes scanning her bright pale skin, trying to remember what she’d looked like with abs.

Surely, she’d not looked so… doughy. If doughy could be the right word to describe a fat blonde girl, tall enough to make simply toned look like two-hundred pounds. But a single touch of her overweight gut reaffirmed it for her. Samus Aran, the woman made of dough, and who no longer remembered what her own muscles felt like.

She wondered what she did weigh. Two-thirty? Two-forty? Even at six-foot-three, Samus couldn’t picture herself as being anything… Well, no. The last three months had made it so much easier to really accept.

Samus Aran had gotten fat, and if she did nothing now, she’d get even fatter.

For a minute, Samus considered using her personal treadmill for the first time that year, but Serapis Station was less than an hour away now, and she’d been getting their advertisement broadcasts for the last two weeks. A real gym, with a pool and a yoga class, sounded so much better than pounding her feet against the treadmill for a few hours.

The further away she got from that beast, the more Samus came to terms with absolutely hating cardio. More than ever, Samus could feel the dull sting of pain in her arches, and the ever-present twinges that came from her knees.

Even with the planet’s complete destruction, SR388 would live on forever in the gnawing sensation that panged from Samus’ joints.

“Adam,” she decisively spoke, “wake up.”

There was a deep resonating sound as the ship’s AI core responded to her voice. The LED lights in her quarters… Samus scowled at herself, annoyed with how much the old labels stuck. The LED lights in her bedroom increased in intensity as the AI came to with a low yawn.

The brightening light made Samus’ eyes squint in minor discomfort, but it was easily surmounted by the displeasure of her illuminated reflection. Her blonde hair was darker, her skin was bright white. She looked like she’d just come through a long winter, or maybe out of a cryogenic tube. One that was packed with frosty desserts.

An unpleasant chill shook up Samus’ spine. She didn’t like the cold. The infusion of Metroid DNA had seen to that, but there was still something so good about icy dessert. The makeup, the flavor, even now Samus found herself craving a quick bite. Ice cream always gave her that little energy boost.

Finally, she could hear the ship’s intercom bark into life as Adam returned to full consciousness. “Good morning,” the voice sighed. “Ahh. I see you engaged the autopilot. You know, you could have allowed me to… where are you?”

“I’m in my bedroom,” Samus answered, lightly fingering her belly button. Was it supposed to feel this deep?

“You mean your quarters?”

Samus sagged, shook her head, and then brushed all of her hair back over her shoulders. “No, Adam. I mean my bedroom.”

“I see… Ahh, there you are. You know, this would be easier if you just installed cameras everywhere. I hate having to do biometric scans, they’re quite inefficient.”

“The day you lecture me on my sleeping posture is the day I pull your damn plug,” Samus responded. “Has Serapis Station hailed us yet?”

“Serapis?” A moment of silence passed. “Ahh. Yes, we’ve received acknowledgement. I suppose I should prepare a docking request, Lady?”

“Go ahead, and guide us into the bay.”

Another brief lapse before, “So instructive. Do you remember when you used to say please?”

Samus turned away from the mirror, giving her intercom a tilted glare. “No.”

The AI sighed. “Me neither. But a guy can dream.”

Samus rolled her eyes. She looked back to the mirror, inspecting each of her jiggly arms with a prodding finger. “You’re a robot, Adam.”

“Only technically true,” it announced in a chipper voice. “We’re cleared for landing in hanger 4, bay 19.”

Samus felt the acceleration of the ship in her legs as Adam took over the autopilot and began guiding them in.

One final look in the mirror before Samus lifted her hands to her hair, tightening it into her familiar ponytail. Then, Samus froze.

To the sound of a straw snapping an elephant’s back, Samus could practically see herself in the mirror. Not this pudgy pasty girl with dark blonde hair, she saw Samus Aran smiling back at her. Bright blonde hair, lightly baked skin, muscles that glistened in the bright bedroom lights.

Her clothes were form-fitting, but in a way that made the bounty hunter look curvy and strong. Then, the reflection grew whiter, her hair grew darker, and the fatass looked fat.

Samus Aran’s ponytail was mostly hidden behind her soft shoulders and thick neck. With her bangs swept to the side, long fringes of hair framed a face that did not want to be framed. Round cheeks, a smoother chin, the fat girl’s beauty mark looked so very small as her white face began glowing with a terrible pink.

She immediately took the hair tie out, feeling the heat from her blush as her wavy blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders.

She wouldn’t have thought anyone could be too fat pull off a simple ponytail, but her reflection had quickly proven otherwise. Samus Aran should have big, bushy blonde hair, sporty and breathtaking. She should look like a girl that would ask where the salad bar was, not for a second plate of a fattening dessert.

Maybe she’d stop caring so much once she got to the gym. Hop into the pool, get water on her skin, a bit of sweat. Some burn in her legs and arms.

Yes. That sounded… just… wonderful…

Then, another thought impacted Samus.

“Adam?” she asked the AI.

“Yes, Lady?”

“Do I own a swimsuit?”

******************************************************************************

Samus did not own a swimsuit.

“Have you considered wearing your Power Suit?”

“I’m going to a gym, Adam.” Samus responded, tightening the zipper on her under-packed gym-bag. “Not assaulting the station.”

“Assaulting the station could be a good exercise. They only have eight gunports, from what I can see. Oh… hmm, they don’t seem to like that I was looking at their gunports. They’ve all snapped all right to us.” As if to himself the AI muttered, “They must have a really good tracking AI… That would make a direct assault much harder.”

“We’re not assaulting the- why am I even saying this?” Samus groaned.

“Hmm. I’m also reading that you’ve been in low-speed transit for four months? And along a non-federation pathway as well. Why didn’t you just jump here?”

“I was running a distress beacon scan.”

“I see. Anything exciting?”

Samus poked her stomach. “No.”

“Ahh. I should have just read the armory log. Looks like it’s been… two months since you’ve even accessed that section. And you didn’t even withdraw anything?”

Samus went to her small twin-sized bed. It was the same bed that her gunship had come with, a simple mattress placed on a hard blue-steel cutout that merged into the wall, which made the damn thing a bitch to make properly. Despite her Senior Chief surely spinning in her grave, Samus had abandoned the showy hospital corners over the last few years, but still did her best to keep the thing tucked.

A tight job which was undone when she plopped onto it with her fat ass, laying back on her hair and groaning aloud, “I didn’t need anything. It’s been quiet the whole ride.”

“You sound like you’ve been bored.”

Samus lifted her legs. Dropped them. Lifted them, dropped them. Each time she did, the fat of her thighs slapped the bedsheet with a soft pomf. “Honestly? Not really. I spent a lot of time watching TV. There’s a few documentaries that I wanted to check out.”

A short pause, and Samus knew Adam was flicking through her television history. Another leg lift, another pomf.

“‘The Undying Dragon’?”

“That one was about the Space Pirates. They even had a few prisoners give interviews, asking about their leadership.”

“I see. It looks like they also interviewed members of the Federation Force. Did anyone reach out to you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. How about for… Zebes: Unplucked… Well, that’s a rather tasteless name.”

Samus grunted. Her legs were beginning to get tired, but she didn’t want to leave her room yet. She hefted forwards, her pooching tummy straining against the black waistband while her blue sport-top strained to hold back her chest. “That one was awful. A bunch of 20-year-old kids went to where the planet should have been, if it hadn’t blown up. They did space walks on asteroids, searching through rubble and dust for anything Chozo.”

“This seems to be a ghost hunting program.”

“Yup. Space ghosts. It was terrible.”

“You watched all twelve episodes. These are an hour-and-a-half long.”

“Mhmm.”

“The finale mentions you by name.”

“It sure does.”

There was an extremely long stretch that followed before Samus stood up, taking her gym bag. She’d have to face it sooner or later.

“You better be docking the ship,” she said.

“Hmm? Oh, oh yes,” the AI distractedly responded. “Did they really make a computer model of you for this?”

“Yup.”

“Why do you have green hair?”

“Just dock the damn ship.”

Samus felt the shift as they passed through the station’s artificial gravity field. It wasn’t much, but Samus felt just a bit heavier now. They must have entered the bay and, sure enough, Samus could hear the resonate thudding of the docking clamps tightening on her gunship.

“They were very generous with your chest…” Adam said. “Is that a thigh gap? You don’t have a thigh gap, do you?”

Samus grit her teeth. “No.” If she ever had one, she sure as hell didn’t now.

“Docking procedures complete. The station’s AI sends a welcome, as well as several pamphlets for hotels and shopping. Would you like me to toss these?”

Samus thought for a second before the girl hopped as if a cattle prod were poked into her fleshy behind. “My watch!”

“Excuse me?”

Samus shook her head, already exasperated with herself as she returned to her bed. “Nothing. Just, stupid. I nearly forgot my watch.”

“Ah. Well, you’ve been traveling low-light for a few months. At least you caught it.”

Samus’ bedside table had only a light, an alarm, and a small fixture upon which the bounty hunter kept her most useful asset. Samus’ watch was an all-in-one utility tool, serving the bounty hunter as a phone, record keeper, calendar, bounty network connector, mobile game provider, and a personal bank. It could even tell the time.

She attempted to buckle the watch onto her left wrist, which made another large pout form on her lips. As she loosened the strap by two holes, Samus wondered if today would continuously remind her how fat she’d become. It clicked into place and the familiar orange background lit up, green numbers and letters slowly scrolling over the screen.

At least she could look forward to yoga. She’d stop by the shopping district first, pick up a… she grunted, large swimsuit, and then head to the gym. It shouldn’t take too long.

“Send me the pamphlets for the shopping district,” Samus instructed. “Maybe I can find a coupon or something.”

Her watch instantly beeped as another notification topped her list, sent by ‘Robo-Adam.’ She tapped it and was greeted to a flashy animation of a pamphlet unfolding, landing directly on the shopping advertisements. Before she could help herself, Samus felt her stomach rumble.

Trembling with the squelch of a rampaging gigafraug, her hunger was inspired by a mouthwatering picture of an extremely juicy cut of meat. Steak, cooked rare in a dark and bloody sauce, shimmered up from a restaurant’s lunch menu as if it were a treasure shining up from a chest.

Samus swallowed. She had felt her heartbeat thump as she looked at the meat, already imagining the scent of it cooking. She’d shorted herself over this trip, having eaten most of her beef and all of her pork during the first few months. This last week, almost every meal had been some form of chicken or rice, and while she still had some snacks leftover, she’d been trying very hard not to simply munch through them during her days on the couch.

She’d only eaten lunch just two hours ago, but the sound that emanated from Samus Aran was like the girl hadn’t eaten at all… or, more aptly, sounded like the hunger of a girl twice her size.

Without thinking, she clicked on the advertisement. Another animation played, the pamphlet being replaced by an unfolding menu. A stylish black background with curvy red text which spelled out ‘The Red Dragon.’ The face of her watch became filled with meaty delicacies. Entrée after entrée, served with mashed potatoes that were slathered with thick-brown gravy.

Samus swallowed a bit of drool.

“I just had a thought,” Adam broke through her hunger-driven cloud. “Why’d you have me dock the ship? Surely, you could have done it yourself.”

Samus tucked her gym bag beneath her right arm, still staring at her watch as she made for the door. “I didn’t want to get up,” she admitted, “and, I’ve been avoiding your cameras.” She no longer caried to hide the truth. Her mind was too focused on preparing excuses. One extra meal. The extra calories could give her that boost she needed.

“Excuse me? Why would you-”

Her door opened. Samus ignored the exceptionally large silence.

It’d been ages since she’d had a proper, rare, steak. She couldn’t trust herself in the kitchen with anything less than well-done, she was much better at eating the food as opposed to making it.

Samus wondered what sort of drinks The Red Dragon offered. It’d be so nice if they had bottled soda. She might end up paying the overnight docking fee to get a few meals in before heading back out.

Wobbling slightly, feeling her thighs fighting for space, feeling the ever-present pangs of stiffness in her knees, Samus made her way down the hall towards the quarterdeck. She passed the galley on the way there, glancing through the hatch more from instinct than any sensible notion, but it brought forth another belly rumble of hunger.

She’d have to restock her provisions after visiting the restaurant.

After she ate.

The airlock doors opened with a ssshup and Samus entered the quarterdeck. They notably didn’t close behind her.

Waiting for the pressurization check, she finally looked up from her watch and stared into the purple orb that was the airlock’s camera.

She could feel Adam staring back at her from the orb, almost a little twinkle from inside.

“So,” his voice came, “that’s a definite… no. On the… thigh gap.”

Samus gave the camera a tilted smirk before releasing a very soft laugh.

“You’re looking… healthy,” he said in a faux-conversational tone.

“I shouldn’t,” Samus said, placing her arms on her hips. “I’m huge.”

“You certainly are…”

“Adam, stop blocking the door,” Samus instructed. “I know quite well what I look like. That’s why I’m going to the gym.”

The door shut behind her and the air finally began to hiss. “You’re going to need more than a visit to the gym. Have you not been…? You haven’t accessed your own gym for a year?!” The AI sounded genuinely shocked now, and more than a bit mad. “How in the world did you even get so… big?!”

“Fat, Adam,” Samus said as the door opened. She walked out purposefully, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “I got fat.”

Her watch buzzed and a purple light glinted from the face. “I was only asleep for… you had me asleep for eight months?!”

“Mhmm.” Samus walked down the gangway, moving alongside her ship and towards the bay’s receiving. She tried to remember the last time she’d been to Serapis, and if their food was as good as it looked.

“It feels like I just blinked. You’ve gained over sixty-three pounds since I logged off, Samus! What have you been eating?! Have you not been exercising at all?!”

Samus pouted, looking down at her belly. It wobbled gently as she gulped before saying, “N-no, it can’t be sixty. Not… quite…” Even knowing that Adam could very well see her biometrics just by looking at her, her mind was making a desperate attempt to push that from her head. “I know, I look huge. But I’ve always looked huge.”

“You never looked fat!”

Samus rolled her eyes. “Yes, thank you, Adam. You’re not my CO. I can eat whatever the hell I want.”

“Maybe if you want to look like a cow.”

Samus lifted her watch to her face, staring into the purple orb. “Do I look like a cow to you?” she asked.

The orb was quiet but eventually answered with an incredulous, “You’ve been accessing the galley an average of ten times a day?!”

Samus scowled. “Alright, goodnight Adam.” She tapped on the orb, bringing up the AI’s settings.

“Ohoho, don’t you dare! Samus Aran, when I wake up you and I are going to have a very serious conversation about your-”

She pressed the power button and immediately, a tired voice took over for Adam’s heated tone.

“-diet…” Adam yawned. “You… can be such a… pain.”

“Sleep well.”

“Don’t… shoot anyone… who calls you… a fatass…” was the AI’s final words before another deep yawn and the purple orb winked out.

Samus frowned. Not because his final attempt to be scathing about her weight, but because he just reminded her that she didn’t bring her blaster along. Oh well. Hopefully, she’d not run into any issues.

Samus entered reception, looking around for a directory that could guide her first to a plus-sized clothing store, and then the gym. She’d decided that The Red Dragon could wait until she finished her workout.

A nice reward for being such a well-behaved Lady.